


The Moon's Wax and Wane

by dancingonduckstreet



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Coffee Shops, Dancer Grantaire, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingonduckstreet/pseuds/dancingonduckstreet
Summary: Inspired by a prompt rec'd on tumblr: 
Enjolras and Grantaire's siblings get sick of the pining and conspire to make them resolve it.
Note: Here be swears.





	1. I Have Rose-Tinted Us Ruby

The brunette greeted the blonde girl with a kiss on each cheek. They swiftly entered the cafe, shivering from the chill in the late autumn air. Once they'd placed their orders, they settled for a pair of plush armchairs at a table near the window.

"Such a good idea, Cam - I love this place." Noëlle, the blonde, said, and smiled as she sat back into the chair. "Anyway - to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You don't waste time, do you?" chuckled Camille, her dark curls bobbing as she spoke. "I just thought we hadn't seen each other in a while and were due a catch-up. Plus, I needed strong coffee. Nowhere else does the good stuff."

Camille had ordered the "Jet Fuel" special, which was sold with an express warning for people with heart conditions. It was also discounted for students, during exam week. Her friend had ordered a hot chocolate with an extra shot of caramel syrup.

Recognising the two, the waitress brought them a slice of brownie to share when she delivered their order to the table. Cosette's dad owned the cafè, and she had been in the year above them at school.

"Don't get me wrong, Cam, it's great to see you but we never do this. Plus, isn’t it the other side of town for you?" probed Noëlle. Her eyebrows arched as she tried to read her friend's face.

Camille sighed. "Okay. I'll come clean. I happened to know that this particular place and time would be the best bet for a discussion we need to have."

"Serious stuff?"

"Deadly. Max is doing my absolute nut in, and I've heard on no uncertain terms that your brother's being a royal pain in the arse, too." She looked earnestly at Noëlle, who almost slammed her cup onto the table.

"Oh, don't get me started." she replied. "He's been coming home. He never comes home, just about tolerates Mum and Dad for a few hours every few weeks. But he's there. And he's moping. Moping over your brother."

"Moping? This is... well, better than I thought, in a way. Because Max is always a grumpy shit, and pining and moping over Enj, but will never just talk to him. He's been in his room for a week now. He thinks Enjolras hates him." Camille pulled a ringlet from the back of her hair and began tugging at the ends. "It's fucking horrible."

Noëlle gave a bitter laugh. "Couldn't be further from the truth. Enj talks about him all the time."

"We need to get them to talk, then, don't we."

"They are the only ones on the planet who don't know how they feel about each other. But what do we do?"

Camille shrugged. She sat back in her chair and stared into space. Noëlle could almost see the thoughts dashing across her hazel eyes, microexpressions shifting as she came to different conclusons. After a minute, she sat back in her seat as well and took her phone from her pocket to fidget with.

"I know!" Cam exclaimed, making her friend jump. "We stage an intervention. Some kind of group social occasion, where they're forced to interact."

"Brilliant. Oh - actually, my parents are out of town next week. They've said I can have a few people over for a 'do', but only if brother dearest is about to make sure there's not too much fun. So of course you’re invited, and if you get R on board, I'll sort the other problem out."

"Ace. I'll invite Azelma. She'll have to bring Eponine, and between the 3 of us that'll be Max sorted."

"I'm a bit worried Enj will twig. I never ask if he wants to invite anyone over when our parents are away."

"If he's been moping as much as all that, it'll just look like you're being a good sister, or that your parents put you up to it. Besides, it'll look better to your parents if you each have a few people coming. Oh - and if you speak to Cosette, she and Marius are the absolute sweetest and noone can argue when they're about."

Noëlle raised her eyebrows, incredulous. Camille definitely knew how to put a plan together. She just hoped for the sake of her brother that it would work out, as she hated lying to him but didn't know what else to do, considering he was so stubborn.

"Okay, that sounds great - leave that with me, I'll send out some messages and you do what you need." she said.

"Great. Listen, I've got to dash - deadlines to avoid, brother to avoid strangling. Catch you later." Camille drained the last of her coffee, threw some of her change in Cosette's polka-dotted tip mug and sprinted along to the train station.

\---

Grantaire was laying face-down on the sofa.

When he got up this afternoon he had called out to see if Cam was in. He was still putting off seeing her, as the disappointment on her face would be the end of pretending it wasn't real. He hated disappointing her, after everything. He'd microwaved some beans and made toast to eat with them. With a little cheese on top, from the bag labelled DO NOT TOUCH MY CHEESE OR I WILL SKIN YOU in his sister's handwriting. Once he'd eaten that and washed the plate, he checked the time.

At least Camille would be home soon, he thought. Then he could talk to her. Try and explain. Let her help, to a point.

He couldn't stop thinking about Enjolras. How he'd hit a nerve last time he'd attended a meeting. He hadn't meant to, but had desperately wanted his attention, in any way possible. So he'd been tipsy, and flirting with the waiter, not paying attention to the discussion. He couldn't remember the words exchanged but he couldn't forget the disgust on his Apollo's face. So he'd excused himself early, and rather than going home went straight on a three-day bender. He'd fucked everything up this time, and no going back.

He was trying to work out how long it'd been. He figured a week, but he'd not taken much notice of his sister, and had turned his phone off and shut it in the cupboard in the bathroom - so he didn't really have any way of telling.

The front door opened.

"Bruv! In the land of the living at last!" Camille called out, seeing his feet hanging over the edge of the sofa.

He groaned a greeting back to her.

"Before I come near, have you bathed? Are you clean?"

Her brother shrugged.

"Max, I love you dearly, but please, have a bath, and brush your teeth, and change your jimjams, and then we can have a cuddle, watch Tangled and eat biscuits all night. OK?"

She reached out and patted him on the head gingerly, and walked towards the kitchen.

"You smell like coffee. Why do you smell like coffee?" He sat bolt upright.

"Words! Hello, words." She turned towards him, her eyes wide in mock surprise.

"Cam, coffee. You smell like the good coffee at Jean's place and I need that coffee." He propped himself against the doorframe, dipping his head like a sad puppy.

"Max, it's 5pm, you know the rules. Plus, you need to bathe." Camille turned away from him.

She started drying the dishes that were on the plate rack, pleased that she could see one more than she'd left. The stain from the baked bean sauce could wait until tomorrow. She was glad he'd eaten. Even if he'd stolen her cheese, at least the worst was over.

"I haven't had coffee since..." Trailing off, he pulled the ends of his sleeves over his hands and looked at his feet.

Camille put the teatowel back on its hook and turned to prop herself against the opposite door frame.

"I know." she sighed. "Tomorrow, we will go up to Jean's, Cosette will save us some cake. Tonight, it's us time. I've missed my brother." She reached out her index finger and gently tapped the end of his nose. "Now, bathe, or I'll call Grammy."

A smile struggled to his lips, bringing the ghosts of dimples to his cheeks. He trudged upstairs to do as she suggested. Knowing she wasn't upset with him was a major weight lifted. The biggest weight was there, still, and wasn't going anywhere soon. At least he had Camille.


	2. The Blame Game Does Not Produce A Winner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting Camille in town, Enjolras' sister comes home. Enjolras is... a mess.

Enjolras couldn't concentrate on anything. He missed Grantaire. In the last two meetings, he had been conspicuous by his absence. Enjolras could barely concentrate on the topic at hand, he was so used to being interrupted by a joke, or sarcastic remark, or rebuttal to a point he had made.

The last time they'd seen each other, their usual playful bickering had become a full blown argument, and he didn't know why. For the previous few weeks they'd been getting along famously. Enjolras had stayed late for a drink after the meeting with Grantaire, and ended up chatting for a few hours. Enjolras had met up with R at the bus station and they'd walked in together. There had even been plans to go for coffee. The thought of it made a warmth spread in Enjolras' chest when he thought of it.

Last time, they'd walked in together, greeted and chatted with their friends, shared a laugh - then Grantaire had inexplicably gone cold. He was shut off, his words that night were venom, rather than the usual contrary, jovial banter. He'd heckled, rolled his eyes. He'd become drunker than usual, and been outrageously flirting with the barman.

Enjolras was hurt. He didn't know why, and the words exchanged were a blur until Grantaire stood up, knocking his table over in the process, and stormed out. He didn't know, really, why he was hurt. He continued, considering that he was annoyed at the distraction. Or, maybe, he had thought he was finally getting through to R, making him realise his value if he'd only apply himself - to find it thrown in his face, in favour of cheap flirtation and alcohol.

Except that was it, wasn't it? As Courfeyrac pointed out in the car journey back to his parents' house, Grantaire had flirted plenty with the bar staff before. When they first met last year, that was just how he was. 

"You know R flirts as a defence mechanism, how come you told him to leave this time?"

Enjolras shrugged. "I guess I'm just a little on edge." 

Combeferre, in the back seat, was frustratingly silent. Enjolras just wanted him to explain, as he usually did, what was going on in his head. Out of the three of them, Ferre always had a measure on everyone - their inner thoughts, their motives. Half of the time, he'd twigged how someone was feeling before they'd even realised it themselves. 

Once he'd been dropped off at home, to a silent house as usual, he went straight to his room and sat on his bed, in the corner that was pushed up against the walls. He didn't really need Ferre to tell him. He was falling for Grantaire, and didn't know why he'd suddenly turned so cold.

He had never been one for romance, anyway. Always been too shy for relationships. When he realised he was attracted to men, he was 13 years old and it was frightening, and confusing. He'd hidden it away, turned away from potential relationships, dedicated himself to his school work, and activism. 

Then he met Grantaire, and from the moment their eyes met, Enjolras was interested. Grantaire was razor-sharp, hilarious, despite his cynicism. His dark, unruly curls and his almost colour-changing eyes were fascinating. He wanted to know him, he wanted to hold him and be held. He was tongue-tied everytime Grantaire spoke.

Never being one for making things easy for himself, he tried to push the feelings away, and ended up bickering with Grantaire, who always had something contrary to say at meetings. He initially hoped he was just trying to get his attention, then it became the backdrop and the norm. 

It wasn't until recently he'd begun to consider the very real possibility that Grantaire felt the same way. But then, everything suddenly went wrong, and he didn't know what happened.

So, for the last fortnight he'd been typing texts out and deleting them. Turning up to meetings alone, disappointed by the empty seat. Today, he'd asked Courfeyrac to take over the meeting. He wasn't in the mood to lead a meeting. He wasn't in the mood to leave his house. His parents were preparing to go away at the weekend, and were busy doing laundry and making last minute arrangements. He didn't want company. He needed to figure this out.

The front door opened and Noelle called out to announce her arrival; then bounded up the stairs, almost skidding to a halt outside her brother's door. She was unsure if to broach the subject yet, or hold back. She had never been good at keeping secrets. She never saw the point. Just as she turned to go to her own bedroom, the door opened behind her.

"Heard you lurking, you alright Nounours?" He smiled weakly, trying to put a brave face on.

"Yeah, I'm fine Jojo! Just been out having coffee with a friend."

His bright eyes narrowed suspiciously at her. As upset as he was, the protective brother in him was not dormant.

"You don't drink coffee."

"Hot chocolate!" she replied. "Just a girl from my class in college. Anyway, how are you doing? Thought it was your meeting night tonight?" 

Enjolras immediately clammed up. He began retreating into his room.

"Is it because he won't be there?" Noëlle asked tentatively .

"No." 

"Come on... I understand. But can't you just talk?"

Enjolras shook his head and climbed silently onto his bed. Noëlle followed, sitting cross-legged opposite him.

"I know it's difficult, but this is just not like you. Jojo, I'm concerned about you." She took his hand. "It's not like you to be hiding away from a problem. You address everything. You fix everything. You always light everything up with your words."

"But I can't fix him. I can't light him up." Enjolras clenched his jaw, the way he always did when he was trying to suppress tears and be brave. 

Noëlle pulled her brother into a comforting hug, and he let himself go. He cried, raw, desperate tears into the crook of her neck as she held him gently.

She hated seeing her brother like this. He always fixed everything, raced in, addressed the issue straight on. It didn't feel right for him to be so distant. She wanted to sort it for him, but knew him better than to try. 

She decided to speak to Camille later. There was no way she could go behind her brother's back like this. He was more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him. There had to be another way to get them to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempted French nicknames?   
> Jojo, short for Enjolras. And Nounours, not necessarily short for Noëlle but it does the repeated-syllable thing and also means teddy bear. So. There's that.
> 
> Lyric from Wax and Wane by Alana Henderson used as chapter title.


	3. We Bent and We Broke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the next morning. Grantaire is feeling better, and is trying to face the world a bit.

The bright lights in the studio were somewhat of a shock to his system, but the feeling of his bare feet walking on the cool floor was welcome. He wasn't usually one for early mornings, but after such a long time indoors and inactive, he needed to get moving, and to get the suffering out of his system. 

With his music playing loud through the speakers and echoing through the room, he began his warm up routine, and slowly he let it all go. His mind went silent, and he let go of the tension in his muscles, allowing his body to twist and turn, dancing the cobwebs away.

Camille hadn't even got out of bed when he left, so he had stuck a note to the board on his bedroom door so that she didn't worry. It had not even turned eight when he'd arrived at the Community Centre, and he soon lost track of time as the music cycled from dramatic to melancholy, fiery to calm. His body and movements adjusted fluidly to each melody.

It was only when the music began to quiet that he became aware of another presence in the practice room. He turned to see who it was, and his Jehan was sat cross-legged by the far wall, eyes wide and face focust. As ever, his shock of ginger hair was wild. Grantaire couldn't help but smile. Jehan was sunshine, personified.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked, a smile on his lips.

"I came along with some of the guys. Ferre and Courf are in the library upstairs with Enjolras, studying something really boring. Had nothing else to do on a Thursday morning but babysit, apparently." he smiled. "I saw your name on the sign-in sheet and pretended I was just dashing to check something out down here. I didn't want to make anyone feel awkward by dragging everyone in."

Grantaire couldn't hide anything from Jehan. He certainly couldn't hide the expression on his face, as his whole body constricted at the mention of Enjolras' name. 

His friend swiftly changed the subject. "I'm glad you're up and about - and dancing again."

"Honestly, I needed to get myself moving. I've only left my room to piss and shit..."

Jehan screwed his nose up at that comment, his freckles bunching together. 

"You have - you have bathed, right?!"

"I missed you, sunshine." Grantaire chuckled. "Cami saw to that last night. She came home to an awake stinky brother on the couch. Made me wash, she fed me and cleaned my bedsheets." He checked the clock on the wall. "Here, my time's up in a minute, come wait while I get changed?"

Jehan gladly followed. "Your sister's a gem, isn't she?"

"I don't know how I coped without her. Honest, think she's going to disinfect the house today. Can't imagine she feels the same." 

"You know that's not true."

Grantaire had to concede that one, giving a shrug and a nod to his best friend as he locked the changing cubicle door.

They had known each other since secondary school. The two of them had always been inseparable. Like day and night. Jehan was an only child with parents whose house had always been open for any of his friends. During his difficult teenage years, R was especially glad of this. He'd practically lived there for a time, and was closer to Jehan's parents than his own family. They were both artists, too - real eccentrics. 

When Camille had come back into her brother's life, Jehan saw a spark in him that he had never seen before, as though he had rediscovered the meaning of life. Later, when he had introduced his oldest friend to a new friend from university, yet another side of Grantaire had been revealed. Gradually, layers of dust and darkness were being chipped away from him.

"Listen - did you fancy coming over and doing some painting today? I don't fancy staying in the library with the Wonder Triplets. We haven't done an art jam in a long while." Jehan called from outside the cubicles.

"That sounds grand." 

He continued changing, words weighing heavy on his tongue, knowing he'd have to speak about the matter at hand at some point. Best get it over with. 

"Jehan?" His voice faltered slightly. 

"Yes, dove?" 

"How has he been? You can be honest." Grantaire exited the cubicle, leaning against the door and twisting his hoodie in his hands.

Jehan winced. "Not good... he's really not been good." He swallowed heavily before he continued, avoiding Grantaire's eyes. "Cancelled last night - I mean, not that he's even been heading up the meetings anyway, Courf's been practically running the show. But last night we all got a text saying he was staying home."

"Shit." Grantaire sat heavily next to Jehan on the bench, leaning to resting his head on his friend's shoulder. Jehan pet him on the head and clutched their hands together.

"Yeah... And he's been asking after you. When I said I'd not heard from you either, he got really quite upset."

"I've got to talk to him." 

"He really wants to talk too." Jehan nodded, wide eyed.

"How do I... how can I get him to?"

"Just text him."

"I can't do that!"

Jehan rolled his eyes. "You fucking can. If you don't, I'll have to lock you two in a cupboard."

"Fine. Fine. I will, I promise."

"Ok." Jehan narrowed his eyes at Grantaire, until he linked their right pinkie-fingers together and nodded. "Right. Well. I'm just going to - I mean, I'd better let them know I'm off."

"Fair. I'll wait outside, give Cam a ring. So she knows I'm alive and all."

"Are you sure you won't come up and say hi?" Jehan smirked, knowing he was pushing the issue.

"Not right now, flower. I promise I will text him though, when we've worked out what I am actually saying." 

They parted ways in the reception area. Grantaire signed himself out, and lit a cigarette once he got outside and started to call his sister. It only took a couple of rings for Camille to pick up.

"Morning!" she answered, chirpy but with a slight gravel to her voice.

"Hi pickle, how are you?" 

He could hear her barely stifling a yawn. "I mean, I've literally just woken up, it's Saturday. Hang on, where are you? It sounds like outside."

"That's because I am outside." He flicked the ash building up on his cigarette, and moved to perch on the low wall near the smokers' bin.

"Where outside?!" she demanded. "It's like, 9am? You're only usually outside at 9am if you're on your way home." Camille was only half-feigning her shock, considering the state her brother had been in last night.

"Very funny! I've been to the dance studio, and now I'm off to J's for painting and coffee."

"Fucking hell. That's, like... movement. Are you well?"

"What? Why so surprised, ma petite?" 

"This is my brother, correct? The one who was basically comatose for the last week?"

"This is the very one... I suppose your comments are justified." he chuckled, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Are you OK though, do you need anything in town? Some more cheese?"

"Nah, I'm alright, ta all the same. I'm meeting some of my mates in town anyway, so I might catch you at some - hey, what? Did you eat my cheese?"

"I was really sad."

"You know the rules. That was my fancy cheese, Max! Cheese stealing is punishable by death in our house!" The ire in her voice was not feigned. He could envision her throwing pillows at him.

"I know. I'm a menace and a cad, and a terrible big brother. I will buy you more cheese."

Camille grumbled. "You had bloody well better. I'll catch you later, anyway. I've got texts waiting for answers."

"Fair enough, trouble. See you later." 

"Laters."

He heard her hang up, and shoved the phone in his jeans pocket. Finishing his cigarette, the noise of the traffic the other side of the car park helped him to zone out. He was feeling better for this morning, and for talking to Jehan - but he was still feeling a mess. He wasn't sure how he could ever speak to Enjolras again. 

"Grantaire?" a voice called from behind him.

A voice that was distinctly not Jehan.

He craned his neck to see Enjolras standing outside the entrance, hair tangled, hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jumper. He looked a mess. 

Grantaire stood, throwing the remnant of his cigarette away, his heart pounding. He desperately wanted to hold him.

"I'm sorry - Jehan said you were down here and - well, he tried to stop me but I had to come. I had to see you." Enjolras blurted.

His eyebrows were raised in apology, in concern. His lips were chapped. His eyes were rimmed with pink, and underlined by dark circles. He had never seemed so small and vulnerable as he did there.

"Oh, good god I've missed you." sighed Grantaire.

Enjolras took tentative steps towards him, and he tried to close the gap. It was like walking through treacle.

"I don't know what I did."

"It's not you. It's not you." Grantaire barely suppressed the tone of despair in his voice. He couldn't stop the tears that were gathering in his eyes, but wiped them away with the cuff of his sleeve nonetheless. "I'm fucked in the head, and you deserve better. You deserve so, so much better. I'm sorry."

They were a foot apart at most. Enjolras closed the gap, roughly grabbing Grantaire into an embrace. Their lips met, chastely at first and then fiercely.

"I don't want anyone else, Grantaire. I don't." Enjolras confessed, tearfully, as they broke apart.

Grantaire crushed Enjolras to him, and kissed him again, and again. There was a painful fire in his chest. He couldn't speak. He felt as though Enjolras was an illusion, that he would melt away if he let him go. But he didn't deserve Enjolras. He would inevitably hurt Enjolras, even more than he already had. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him. 

So he let go. 


	4. Is It Broken 'Cause You've Toyed With It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the kiss... from Grantaire's perspective.

After twenty minutes of sitting across from each other in silence, Jehan had to say something.

"I thought you were hanging out with me, R, not just sit there and sulk. Much as I enjoy your company... you're not being company, right now." 

Grantaire didn't say anything. He just rubbed his face and groaned.

"Look," Jehan said "do you want to talk about... everything? How you're feeling and stuff?"

"How do you think I'm feeling, Jehan?" He snapped "I've upset him, he kissed me, now he's not responding to my texts. And, if I'm correct, his mates are texting you now, asking what the fuck happened. Everything's a mess."

Jehan put his hand in the air forcefully, to stop Grantaire's spiral. "Alright, calm your shit. I'd say that's all the more reason to, you know, actually work out what happened, so you can 1talk this all out with him and try and salvage something."

Grantaire glared through narrowed eyes at Jehan, and back into the depths of the black coffee cup. Jehan stirred his cup of herbal tea whilst glaring at the mop of curls on top of his best friend's head.

"You know I'm right, is all. More to the point, I can help you piece together what happened, and actually sort this out. Because I know where you went after you left us, that night."

That made R lift his head up to meet Jehan's eyes. Just then, the coffee shop door opened and in walked Eponine. His other best friend, she worked at the pub with him - or rather, ran it in the absence of her parents. 

"You're a bloody sight for sore eyes. J, I thought you said he was better?" Leaning on Jehan's seat, she looked over Grantaire's sorry state.

"He was. Until earlier." 

Eponine sat next to Jehan, shuffling him over to join the conversation.

"Right. There's been developments. Hit me with it, you didn't send him a photo of your dick did you?"

"Fuck off, Ep." R snapped. "No, I saw him this morning. And he kissed me."

"Right so he kissed you, I'm not seeing the problem?"

"He kissed me, and then ran off. He's not answering my texts, and I don't know what I did but I know one way or another it's all fucked."

She gingerly reached out to touch his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He placed his hand over hers, squeezing back.

"It's not fucked. I'm going to get a coffee, and we're going to go through what happened that night, and try and salvage this shit." She smoothly got up and walked to the counter. 

Grantaire flopped his head directly onto the table. "She's going to make me talk about my feelings, isn't she?"

"Afraid so." Jehan nodded. "I mean, it's not a bad thing. Beside this whole tangle of... whatever... You know there's more to it than just Enjolras. You've been dealing with this shit a lot... forever. So, if you want it to work out with him, you've really got to be honest with yourself about what's going on."

His chest felt tight, like he'd been repeatedly kicked. He just remembered the taste and feel of Enjolras' lips on his, and the desperate look in Enjolras' eyes just before they kissed. The way his chest had bubbled when they used to walk home together. Exchanging texts about literature and history and having passionate debates until the early hours of the morning. That realisation, once they actually talked, that they were on the same level when one on one, no crowd to rile up or clown to. 

He had felt so alive and so much better, this morning. Not happy, as such. But it wasn't the drowning feeling he'd been stuck in, or the anger, or the cycling through a million different thoughts. Now, he was consumed by self loathing, and his brain would not shut up. 

There's no use talking about feelings, he thought. There are too many to pin down, and none of them will bring back what he had before this mess started. He got up and started to leave.

Eponine was in his way. "Where do you think you're going, R? I just got you another coffee." 

"There's no point in us having an intervention, babe. Sorry and all that." he tried to breeze past her, put on his mask, tough it out.

She set the coffees down onto the table, and grasped his hands firmly. Stroking the back of his hand with a thumb, she looked him dead in the eyes. Tears pricked and started to roll down his cheeks and he felt a violent shudder as he started to sob. She pulled him into a rough but warm hug.

"I know you're hurting, baby, I know. But this is why we've got to talk. I know it's hard. But we can talk this through - I know what happened, you told me everything before you hit self destruct. So, we can sort this."

"C'mon, let's finish these coffees and we'll take you home, and when you're ready, we'll talk. I'll talk to Courf and the guys, too. See if they can't shed some light on the other side."

As they sat him down again, a bundle of serviettes and a brownie appeared on the table. Cosette was behind the counter and gave a theatrical wink to Grantaire as he glanced around in confusion. He smiled weakly in return and grabbed a fistful of tissue to dab his eyes with.

A tall, blonde girl entered the coffee shop. She immediately stopped to stare at Grantaire and his friends. She whipped her phone out and sent a text, before ordering a coffee to go. It wasn't until she opened the door that Grantaire realised who she reminded him of, and he felt like he was missing part of himself.


	5. How Much Have I Inherited?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noëlle and Camille meet up again and discuss everything that's going on.
> 
> Here be Exposition.
> 
> CW for parental abuse, parent death.

Camille was, as ever the last student left in the art classroom. It was Friday afternoon, and she loved to spend extra time once everyone left, meticulously cleaning the brushes and hanging them to dry. The tutor always let her stay as long as she liked, appreciating her help in tidying up. It also meant she didn't have to catch the same bus as everyone else, or sometimes she met her brother in town for coffee and he'd take the bus home with her.

A knock at the door interrupted her train of thought. Suspecting it was another student to see the tutor, she carried on rinsing out the brushes. 

“I was hoping I’d find you here, Cam. Are you nearly done?” 

She whipped her head around. Noëlle was standing in the doorway with her arms full of books, impossibly prim and unruffled for the this time of day, with an apprehensive expression on her face.

“Oh. No, I won’t be long - give me just a minute to grab my bags?” Cam shot an apologetic look at her tutor, who silently gestured for her not to worry. She dried her hands off and hurriedly grabbed her coat, shoving her books into her bag. 

They walked toward the main door in amicable, if slightly awkward silence. They both knew the situation with their respective brothers had become more complicated, and didn’t know what to do about it. Camille stopped as they exited the school gates and pulled a cigarette seemingly from nowhere, put it to her lips ready to light.

“Listen, Cam…” Noelle began, but was interrupted.

“If you’re asking what we should do, I’ve not had any more ideas. I don’t want to trick my brother. I don’t know what to do. He’s so… broken.” Cam took a drag on her cigarette, letting her bags slip from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow. 

“That was pretty much what I was going to say, to be fair.” Noelle shrugged, sadly. “I hate seeing him like this. He’s never been this bad.”

“See, mine’s always been… pretty bad. I’m sure you know. But he’s usually got a sense of humour about it. At least he’s not retreated back to bed.” She sighed, leaning against the wall. Noëlle noticed that she had paint smudged on her nose, and her curls were barely held by the band they were shoved into. She hesitantly reached out to pat her arm. 

“That’s… something? Look, I wanted to tell you I saw him the other day, but I haven’t been able to track you down. He was in the coffee shop with a girl and that short ginger guy. He was in bits. I wasn't sure what was up, but... well, by the time I got home and saw my brother, it all became clear.” 

“Yeah, Jehan and Ep, they’re good eggs. Look after us both, they do.” She smiled sadly. After a long drag on her cigarette, and stubbing it out underfoot, she looked earnestly into Noelle’s eyes. “Max isn’t a bad guy, Noelle. I hate that it’s hurt your brother too, you’re clearly as protective of him as I am of Max. It's just - he's got a lot of issues. More than he really lets on. The last thing he wants to do is hurt anyone he cares about.”

“I know he’s not. Believe me, I was so angry before I spoke to you. But I don’t think you’re someone who’d let your brother go around breaking hearts without something strong to say about it.”

They both chuckled. Camille gestured towards a bench near the bus stop. She wanted to explain to Noëlle a bit more about her brother, and the whole situation.

“We don’t talk much about the big stuff, me and Max. I mean, you know I only moved in with him a few years ago?” 

Noëlle nodded, gesturing for Camille to continue.

“Well… our family was always a bit messed up. Dad was a shite. Ma… there wasn’t much about her, you know? She was away, a bit, in the head. Max always, always tried to look after Ma, since she couldn’t look after herself." She took another cigarette out, and lit it. "Then I came along, and he had to protect me too. Dad would come in and out of our lives as he pleased, and Ma just stopped having good days. Da beat the daylights out of Max - there was only that time that I saw, but I know there had been more - and he told him to get out. Guess they never thought for a second he’d actually leave, but it was obviously the last straw. When Ma realised he was gone, and went looking, no sign of him but a letter left with Grammy - saying he was off and not to try contacting him again.” 

“Christ.”

“Yep.” She took a deep drag on her cigarette. “Then, about… what, four years ago, I think it was? Dad went on one of his mad ones. Got steaming. Ma could never cope with him like that. Somehow or another they ended up in the car… and it smashed into a tree. Both gone, there at the scene.” Cam's eyes almost glazed over, staring intently at a spot of gum on the ground. She bit her lip, and Noëlle could almost see her pushing back a torrent of emotion. It was clear to her that despite Cam’s tougher exterior, she was struggling to keep it up after reliving everything that had happened.

“Shit. Cam, I’m so sorry. You weren’t - you weren’t hurt at all?”

“Nah - I wasn't with them. I’d been living with Grammy mostly anyway, since they couldn't handle looking after me. Anyways, so she insisted a couple of years ago that I should see Max again. He was going through a real bad patch, drugs and everything with his demons, after Ma and Da passed. So, having me around, he needed to sort his life out. Which he did. And I’m so, so fucking proud - the state he was in when Gram and I came over here, you’d not recognise him.” 

Noëlle couldn't help but awkwardly hug her friend. 

“I can see why he’s not exactly the best at communicating, then. For what it’s worth, nothing like that’s happened to us, and Enj is still a pain in the arse.” 

“Nah, he’s alright. You don’t have to have a sob story to have issues. Just helps.” Cam broke out a crooked, winning smile. “Look - I’ll have a chat with Max. See what’s going on in that head of his. See if I can't get him to see sense for once in his life.”

“I’ll chat to Enjolras. I won’t tell him anything, if you don’t want me to. Just - I hope you’re both okay.” Noëlle's forehead was lined with concern, and Cam couldn't help but find her endearing. 

“We will be. We always are.” 

The girls stood, now somewhat awkwardly, opposite each other. Cam’s bus was rounding the corner, and Noëlle had only a short walk home.

“Catch you later!” Noëlle waved, starting to walk away.

“I’ll drop you a text, sure. Have a good weekend.” 

Once on the bus, Camille slumped into a seat, and dialled her brother's number. 

"Afternoon, chou-fleur." He answered almost immediately.

"Morning, bruv." 

"Nope!" Grantaire laughed, triumphantly. "You can't fool me, Cami, I've been awake, I know what time it is. You on the bus? I've got Eponine and Jehan here, we're going to have Thai takeaway."

He must be feeling better. 

"Delightful. Any of Ep's crowd coming too?"

"I reckon Azelma and Gavroche will be heading from school too. See you soon, yeah?" 

"In a while, crocodile. Good to hear you up and about, Max." She added, hesitantly. It had been a rough two weeks, and it was genuinely good to hear a smile in his voice.

"None of that, cabbage," he warned. "Hey - We're alright, aren't we?" 

She rushed to reassure him, hearing the worry in his voice.  
"Course. I won't be long, just coming through the roadworks at the arches."

"I might even meet you at the end of the road then."

"Oh, I'm so spoilt. See you in ten!" They said a cheery goodbye, and hung up. Camille scrolled aimlessly through her phone until she reached her stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from a beautiful song by Alana Henderson, who is a singer-songwriter and cellist who toured with Hozier. She's wonderful. Please give her a listen!


End file.
